Friday May 24, 2019
No rings. You’re looking for a ring, I don’t have one.
Yeah we’ve been together for a decade.
Yeah we’ve been filing our taxes as a “unit”.
Yeah I’m paying higher medical fees than I would be if I were single.
No I don’t have a ring.
I don’t know if his mom has one in the family she’s hoping will go to use.
I don’t know if that’s something they do.
We don’t have that.
I saw my mother’s engagement for the first time this weekend and hers is beautiful,
but it would get caught in my hair.
I never liked spending money on symbols.
I’m a writer.
I can give more meaning to a 10 year long relationship with words, and those,
if you think are free, are not.
Something simple would be nice.
Something that suits me and my spirit and my skin tone, if we’re going down that road.
I like my hands better these days.
I like the way they’ve aged and my nails too, so if this is an option, I’m glad
they look the way they do now.
He isn’t so much a gifts person as he is a touch person,
a quality time person, a words person.
He’s pretty amazing at all of those, hence the 10 years thing.
If you’re looking, and think you should see something, that’s your own narrative.
But if it makes you feel any better, I think about it sometimes too.
Friday July 29, 2016
from a Facebook post
Ever since I started wearing your wedding ring I’ve been having bad dreams, seeing things I’ve never seen before. I wake up sweaty, the sheets soaked, and shaking. I tried to write the dreams down once or twice, but it freaked me out too much, when I went back and re-read it. Molly really really wanted it. I don’t know why you didn’t just give the ring to her. Dad says that because I’m the oldest granddaughter it had some sort of special significance to you, but you never showed that, I mean, I never knew you felt that way when you were alive. To be honest, I didn’t really think you ever liked me. I got a birthday card from you once or twice, but other than that, and Christmas visits, you didn’t seem to care for me or Bill. Molly and Kenneth were another story. I know that you took care of them more when they were still cute and cuddly. It’s not my fault my Mom thought you were irresponsible.
Wednesday April 20, 2016
Arden: Elliot, where did you get that ring?
Elliot: Why, you like??
Arden: Yeah, I like it a lot. It looks expensive.
Elliot: What does that mean?
Arden: Means it doesn’t look like something you’d buy.
Elliot: What the fuck?
Arden: I don’t mean it like an insult, I’m just saying.
Elliot: Well why don’t you stop speaking in fucking puzzles? What are you getting at?
Arden: Woah, pump the breaks, I’m just saying I like your ring and I didn’t expect you to have something like that. Because you don’t have a job. And I don’t think you’re dating someone? I don’t know, Elliot, fuck, just forget it.
Elliot: You’re jealous.
Elliot: You are. I fucking knew it. You can’t accept that I might have one thing that you don’t have.
Arden: That’s not true.
Elliot: No? Then I guess you won’t care if I tell you that Nanna gave me this ring.
Elliot: Yeah. She wanted me to have it. She gave it to me before she died.
Arden: Why the fuck did she give it you?
Sunday March 22, 2015
I wasn’t sure what to do. I mean, do you report it to the police? Do you pawn it?! What if they trace it back to you? I don’ wanna go to jail for something I didn’t even do! Do you keep it as a trinket in your jewellery box for a year or two before you dare to wear it? I was quitting smoking at the time so I was a real moody SOB. I put it in my pocket and I continued on my way to the Salvation Army. I kept putting my hand in my pocket to make sure it was still there. My grandmother was into antiques and she taught me how to hold a diamond up to the light to see what it’s worth. She taught me how to lick the gold and see if it’s real. She could even name the carat – just from the tinny taste of it… A real talent. Yup… A real talent. I’d done all that, down in the park, in the ravine, so I knew it was worth a heck of a lot. It was worth Charity’s university fund and wedding fund and don’t-you-dare-get-preggers fund.
Tuesday November 12, 2013 at Sambuca Grill
Overheard by Sasha on the Lansdowne bus
He was waiting in his underwear for her on the couch when she got home. She hadn’t given him a key yet, so he had to charm her neighbour into believing she had and he had just misplaced it while helping another old lady cross the street. It seemed like a likely story. When he let himself into her apartment, he washed all her dishes, then washed between his legs, put back on his underwear, a bow tie, and some coconut body lotion, and sat himself on the couch to surprise her. He was planning a big night. One that would start out as a joke and end up as a proposal. He wanted to “open her mouth with laughter and then shove the truth down” as he had heard his acting teacher say in second year. He agreed with that sentiment, and knew she would be disappointed with any other display of something that meaningful. He had heard her say millions of times that if anyone ever proposed to her with her family around, or in a public space, she would have no problem breaking up with him right then and there, on his knee or not. He knew that he would have to stand out and showcase that he had heard her all those times. He also wanted to make sure she wasn’t even slightly suspecting a ring, because that, he was sure, would ruin things. He had been waiting for a long time. She had failed to mention that she was flying to Montreal to visit her grandmother for her birthday that weekend.
Friday October 18, 2013 at Cafe Pamenar
The PACT Conference 2007 Keynote Speech
There are many who are experts in Zoology and Scientology
In Rigor-ology and Astrology
There are those who speak the language of equations and permutations
Of fractions and subtractions
There are some who laugh at hilarities
Who sigh at profanities
Who “ooh” and “ahh” at the foibles of humanities
There are few who glare at rebellions
Who frown at the hellions
Who curse the loud-talkers by the millions
There are few though
There are few who speak the secret language that we do
Who know the charms of our voodoo
Who smoke the dreams of the ones that you knew
There are few though
Who sing the songs that we sing
Who ding the bells that we ding
Who clang the clocks that we ring
Who run at the ocean and fling their bodies in
There are few
Who make mixtures of herbs and spices
Who live life by the toss of the dices